


Triquetra

by starr_falling



Category: Jack the Giant Slayer (2013)
Genre: Community: smallfandombang, GFY, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 22:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6677719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starr_falling/pseuds/starr_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of the giants' invasion, things only seem to get worse for Cloister and her people. An unconventional solution to the problem brings Elmont, Isabelle and Jack together in a way they never could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triquetra

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [smallfandombang](http://smallfandombang.livejournal.com/).

“Fire! Fire!” Jack looked up as the frantic cry was picked up by multiple voices. A small black cloud of smoke was rising from the northern part of the tent city that had sprung up around the ruins of the castle. Even as he watched it seemed to double in size.

“Damn it!” Elmont barked as they both raced toward the fire.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack could see other Guardians pushing through the fleeing crowds to where a few people were trying to put the fire out with whatever water they had to hand. Unfortunately, a steady wind was blowing through, spreading embers to the tightly packed tents faster than they could work.

“Michael!” Elmont shouted to the approaching knights even as he pulled back one man that had strayed to close to the flames. “We need a bucket line. Grab anything that'll hold water and anyone able bodied and get them here immediately!”

The knight – Michael – saluted but Jack couldn't hear his response over the sound of the flames. This close the heat was intense, worse than standing in a baker's kitchen. He could feel his skin drying out as he helped up several people that had fallen in the panicked crowd. None of them seemed too injured, so he sent them off and turned back to the fire.

By then several people had returned with buckets and bowls and began pouring water on the fire. Jack joined the line, his attention narrowing down. He grabbed a bucket, tossed water on the fire, handed it off and accepted the next.

He was unsure how long he repeated those same actions without anything seeming to change. As soon as the fire was doused in one place, it flared up in another.

“Elmont!” Jack was finally roused from the daze he was in by Isabelle's voice calling over the cacophony. “Elmont!”

“Princess! It isn't safe!” Elmont shouted back. “Get down from there and away from here!”

Jack finally located Isabelle. She was standing atop a broken remnant of a wall far too close to the fire. Even worried for her safety, Jack couldn't help but admire the way the fire glinted off her hair and made her skin glow.

“Elmont, we'll never get enough water here fast enough!” Isabelle yelled back, ignoring her Captain's orders. “There's several wagons full of dirt where they've been excavating! Send some of your knights for them!”

“Right away!” Elmont yelled back, stalking over to his men, still clearly unhappy but having to follow her–very sensible–orders.

“Jack!” Isabelle's voice reached him again and his eyes snapped back to her. “Take as many people as can be spared and head to the far side of the fire. Take down as many tents as you can, starting at least two rows back! Save as much as you can and clear as much space as possible! There should be empty wagons for hauling debris on the far side of the old kitchens!”

“Right away!” Isabelle spared a moment to smile at his echo of Elmont.

“Once you have a couple of rows cleared out we need at least two people to stamp out or douse any embers blown into the clearing!”

Jack nodded, and grabbed the two men closest to him. “You heard the Princess, we'll get the wagons. You there–” Jack pointed to half a dozen people that had just joined their efforts. “–get started on taking down the tents!”

Jack didn't bother with words after that, running for the wagons as fast as he could. He and the two other men dodged through panicked peasants and nobles alike. It took far too long to reach the wagons, and even longer to maneuver them back to the fire. The closer they got, the more restive the oxen grew. Jack struggled to maintain control and could only hope the others were faring better.

“You there,” Jack shouted at several men standing back from the fire, staring but not doing anything. “Keep the oxen calm! The last thing we need is them to bolt and trample someone!”

Tossing his reins to the first to reach the side of his wagon, he leapt out and headed closer to the fire. One row of tents had been pulled down and were piled as far from the fire as they could get. Half of the next row was down and near a dozen people were working on the rest.

He grabbed up a handful of cloth and started hauling it to the wagons. He absently noted another pile that looked to consist of mostly clothes and blankets. Jack hoped they would be able to get the belongings back to their owners once the fire was taken care of.

After that it was a race to save as much as possible. He raced back and forth between the tents and the wagons. When the first one was as full as could be, he sent the man holding the reins to drive the wagon back.

Every once in awhile, he would pause to breath and look around. They had managed to create a sizable clearing around the fire; several people were running from one blackened patch of grass to another, stamping on embers and small flames.

He could see Isabelle still standing on her precarious perch, yelling out directions though he could no longer hear her. In the distance he could see Elmont and his guards shoveling dirt onto the flames.

Finally, after nearly half an hour he called a halt to those working with him. The clearing around the fire was large enough that the embers were only crossing half its length. The fire itself seemed mostly out and the guards appeared to be checking for hotspots rather than open flame. As far as he could tell, the immediate crisis was over.

As he made his way to where he had last seen Isabelle and Elmont, he couldn't help but wonder when the next one would start.

* * *

“We've had reports from several villages to the north of sickening and maddened livestock. In the south, the crops are rotting in the fields. And there are reports of wells going dry from every corner of the kingdom.”

King Brahmwell listened in growing disbelief and horror as his steward reported.

“Lord Clark is requesting soldiers to patrol his lands as they've had an increase in bandits. But so have Lowell, Britton, and Westbrook. Lord Ansel claims they've had triple the number of highwaymen attacking travelers this year.”

“Can these reports be trusted?” Brahmwell demanded.

“If it were only one source, I might suspect ulterior motives. But with similar reports coming in from all over the kingdom?”

“Alright,” Brahmwell sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Send a runner for Captain–”

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty,” a young page rushed into the small–mostly intact–storage room the King was using as an office.

“Speak,” Brahmwell commanded, worried by the soot that dusted the boy's face and tunic.

“There was a fire, Your Majesty,” the page answered breathlessly. “It's out now, but near a third of the tents in the north quarter have been damaged.”

“Dear God,” Brahmwell resisted the urge to curse. “Was anyone injured?”

“Not seriously,” the boy replied. “The Princess had everything in order and the fire was put out right quick.”

Brahmwell released a silent sigh. While he was quite proud she had apparently handled herself well, he was not keen to learn Isabelle was once again so close to danger.

“How did the fire start?” he asked.

“The Captain believes embers were blown onto the tents off of an unattended cook fire.”

“Unattended?” Brahmwell modulated his tone as the poor boy cringed. “I'm sorry, please continue.”

“It wasn't the communal cook fire, Your Majesty,” the page explained. “The Captain said it looked like someone had been trying to cook something _inside_ their tent.”

“Which means someone either has an outside source of food or has been stealing rations,” Brahmwell could feel his jaw clenching and forced it to relax.

“Is there anything else?” he inquired. The boy shook his head so Brahmwell waved him off. “Leave us then.”

Brahmwell watched him go, dearly wishing he could retire early with a bottle of wine. But it was only mid-morning and any wine that could be salvaged from the castle was now set aside for communal use.

“Ever since those damned giants showed up, it's like our kingdom's been cursed,” he lamented.

“Actually, I believe it has been, Your Majesty,” a voice spoke into the silence.

Father Stevens stood in the doorway, a grim look upon his face.

“Please tell me you're not serious,” Brahmwell didn't hold much hope that it was only a jest.

“I'm afraid not, Sire,” the monk stepped into the room and Brahmwell waved him to a chair. “And if I'm correct, things are only going to get worse.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, ignoring the anxious murmuring his steward.

“The root of the problem is the beanstalks,” Stevens began. “They were created with dark magic and such things have consequences.”

“I thought the kingdom being invaded by giants _was_ the consequence,” Brahmwell said.

“That was one consequence,” Brahmwell had to stifle yet another sigh. “And certainly the intended one.”

“And these,” Brahmwell gestured broadly, encompassing both the reports on his desk and the kingdom at large. “Are the unintended ones.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Stevens paused as if to contemplate how he wanted to word what he needed to say. “We believe that the magic that allowed the beanstalks to grow so large and so quickly, did so by draining the vitality–the very life–from the land.

“We also believe that as the beanstalks rot, they will leave behind the dark magic they were imbued with, corrupting the land.”

“Is there anything to be done?” Brahmwell demanded. “Surely there must be some way to fix it?”

There _would_ be a way to fix it, no matter what he had to do to see his kingdom thriving again.

“There is likely a ritual that could be done,” the monk admitted with a shrug. “But the abbey's library was destroyed with the rest of the castle. There is little we can do without our books and records. The study of magic has long been forbidden in our order. Since the last appearance of the giants, to be precise.”

“Then we will make excavating those a priority, second only to feeding our people.”

* * *

Isabelle struggled over the rubble strewn ground, laden with as much water as she could carry. Though her father refused to allow her to be party to digging out the abbey or shifting of any of the rubble, she was determined to carry her own weight. Mostly this meant organizing things to ensure everything ran smoothly while her father focused on the kingdom at large.

But sometimes she needed to be a little more hands on, to feel like she was truly helping. Thus she took food and water to the workers same as any other able bodied woman. It was hard work, but all the more satisfying for it.

That morning was rather cool for so late in the summer but the men were still overheated. More than one had stripped to the waist in an attempt to keep cool.

Jack and Elmont proved to be no exception once she spotted them.

She paused for a moment, resting against a partially intact wall. Jack was long, with a lean muscled chest. Elmont was quite a bit shorter, but also broader and more heavily muscled. They were both quite lovely, if she was going to be completely honest and the contrast between them, with Jack's lightly tanned skin next to Elmont's paler mien, made for a beautiful sight.

A sudden, loud braying startled Isabelle so badly she nearly tipped over her bucket. A quick glance around showed that no one was paying her any mind, so she hastily continued on her way. It didn't take long to make her way over to where the two men she had been watching were working steadily.

“Good day, Princess,” Elmont hailed as he and Jack worked together to shift a large stone.

“Hello, Isabelle,” Jack said, head ducked as he stopped a little to compensate for the difference in height with Elmont.

“Good morning, Jack, Elmont,” Isabelle smiled and proffered her bucket. “Come take a break, I've brought water.”

They both said there thanks as they set down the stone and made their way to her side.

“How goes the work?” she asked after they both had had a chance to drink deeply.

“Quite well, actually,” Elmont informed her, stepping to the side so other workers could move past them. “It would seem a pair of columns have fallen in such a way as to create a pocket underneath them.

“Once the architects have a bit of time to study them, we should be able to shift the rubble they're supporting and clear out a good deal of the debris. Father Stevens is hopeful that many of the books will be salvageable.”

“That's great news,” Isabelle could feel her shoulders lifting along with her lips. “Mayhap one of them will have the information we need.”

“The Father seems to think so, anyway.” Jack chimed in. “He said the oldest records and books were kept in the deepest part of the library to keep the tomes that dealt with magic and stuff away from everyone.”

“It's still so hard to believe everything that has happened,” Isabelle murmured, more to herself than her companions.

“Yes, I never really gave much credence to magic before this,” Elmont said, wiping his brow. “But it's hard to deny its existence when you're faced with proof in the form of a giant beanstalk. I'm still not sure that doing more magic is the answer, though.”

“Do we really have a choice?” Jack voiced what Isabelle had been thinking. “Something must be done and I certainly know of nothing that will fix dry wells and rotting crops.”

“Jack is right,” Isabelle said and Elmont reluctantly nodded. “As little as I wish to experience any more magic, I can think of no other way to right what has gone wrong and neither can anyone else.

“Besides, the monks are more learned in such matters and they believe this is the only way.”

“True,” Elmont conceded. “But that doesn't mean I have to like it.”

“I don't think even the brothers like it,” Jack said with a wry smile. Elmont snorted an agreement and reached for more water.

Instead of drinking it, though, he tipped it over his head. His hair darkened as water streamed down his face and neck. Isabelle found herself tracing the path of the water as it flowed downward, past the hollow of his throat, across his pale nipples, not stopping until it soaked into the waist of his trousers.

Realizing what exactly she was staring at, Isabelle wrenched her gaze away, face heating up. She looked for any safe place to look,and her gaze caught on Jack. His eyes appeared to be following the same path hers had. Then they snapped up to her own and Jack went as red as she felt.

She couldn't help but smile at how adorably he blushed and after a moment he returned her smile with a bashful one of his own. She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head slightly towards Elmont, who stood with his head still tilted back and eyes closed. Jack's smile widened and he nodded ever so slightly.

* * *

Father Stevens clasped his hands behind his back and stared at a blank space of wall, while he waited on his King's pleasure. He had good news to report but he was uncertain how it would be received.

He started slightly as the door in front of him opened. “The King will see you now,” the steward intoned.

Stevens straightened his shoulders and walked into what passed as royal chambers these days. The room was small and badly illuminated by a hole high in one wall and a few candles. It smelled faintly of grain, mold, ink and parchment. Stevens thought it was perhaps a former storage room for the kitchens.

“Ah, Father Stevens,” King Brahmwell looked weary, lines of tension around his eyes and mouth adding a decade to his age. “Have you news?”

“Your Majesty,” Stevens bowed perfunctory. “We have made great progress in researching the dark magic problem.”

“And do you have a solution?” the King did not look hopeful.

“I do believe we have,” Stevens stated baldly.

“And what is it?” the King looked and sounded calm but his hands twitched slightly where they lay upon his desk.

“We have found what appears to be an old fertility ritual once preformed by your royal ancestors,” Stevens started. The king's only reaction was a rise of eyebrows. “Before magic fell out of favor, it appears to have been performed by a member of the royal family once a generation or so.”

“And what, precisely, is this ritual?” Brahmwell demanded, finally losing patience.

“It would 'marry' the royal house and the land together,” he continued, seeing the confusion on the king's face. “It is a binding, almost an agreement, that they would care for the land, and the land would care for them in turn.”

“Hmm,” Brahmwell stoked his beard. “And this will help fix our problem how?”

“Ah, well,” the Father could feel color flooding his face. “It is a fertility ritual, Sire. The, er, carnal act performed as part of the ritual would draw forth a rather–vital–energy which would be channeled into the land.”

“Alright,” Brahmwell looked completely composed despite the subject they were discussing. “How soon can I perform this ritual? And how exactly do I do it?”

“I am afraid you cannot do it, Your Majesty,” he cringed as the king's countenance darkened.

“Then what was the point of telling me off it?” he demanded.

“While you may not perform it, the princess could,” Stevens said in a rush.

Brahmwell paused and stared at him for an uncomfortably long moment. “Explain, now.”

“The vows you took when you wed would prevent you from performing the ritual,” he said. “But the Princess has made no such vows. The fact that she is, er, in her prime would likely make the vital magic stronger as well.”

“You expect me to allow my daughter to perform what you referred to as a carnal act and not ever be wed?” Brahmwell drawled. Stevens swallowed thickly.

“The ritual would actually bind the princess, not only to the land, but also to her partner. As far as magic is concerned, they would be married,” he rushed to explain. “And once the ritual has been done, a wedding ceremony to official marry them would be entirely possible.”

“I see,” Brahmwell set back in his chair, staring through Stevens. The king's gaze sharpened and returned to to him in short order. “And what of her partner? Who is it you would have us bind her to? My daughter has already chosen man she wishes to wed and I'll not force her to abandon him.”

“As long as they're not previously bound anyone of your choosing, or hers, will do,” Stevens hesitated before continuing. “There was one other thing the records mentioned, in regards to her partner.”

The king gestured sharply for him to continue when he hesitated again.

“It does not concern who exactly,” he said slowly. “It is more a matter of the number of partners.”

“Number of partners?” Brahmwell echoed dubiously.

“Three is both a very holy and a very magical number,” Stevens said, trying not to fidget as the king glowered at him. “If the princess were to bind herself to two others, it would increase the magic exponentially. And, to be frank, between the lost vitality and the dark magic corruption, we need all the power we can muster.

“Performing the ritual with two people will help, no doubt,” he said. “But as bad as things are, it might not be enough. It could take years to truly recover and if anything were to happen while we still struggled?

“But with a triad we could not only recover but thrive. Cloister could be as great as it was before this, maybe even better.”

“We don't have much choice at this point, do we?” The king asked.

“I'm afraid not, Sire,” Stevens replied. “With every day that passes, the land fails more. Each day there is talk of new calamities. Even here, the food is dwindling and sickness has started to spread.”

The king stood and turned his back on Stevens. It was a long time before he spoke.

“Begin preparing what you must,” the king's shoulders slumped as he turned back around to pin him with a fierce look. “I will speak to Isabelle. I have no doubt she will agree to this but I will not force her. It will be her choice and Jack's, to do this or not and whether they are willing to invite another into their life and bed.”

“Yes, Sire, your will be done,” Stevens stood and bowed, turning to take his leave.

* * *

“The choice is yours,” the king said, eyes solemn as he looked between them. “I will not decree your actions in this matter.”

Jack could only stare at his king blankly. He certainly would never have expected anything like this when he was told the king wished to speak to him. He was still trying to believe the king had given permission for he and Isabelle to wed.

“Do you understand?” Brahmwell asked, reaching out for Isabelle's hand.

“Yes,” Isabelle's glanced at him, catching his eyes. Jack nodded, unable to speak still. “We understand.”

“Then I will leave you to discuss the matter,” the king stood, looking weary. “And I will support you, no matter what you decide.”

Brahmwell kissed Isabelle on the forehead, then squeezed Jack's shoulder before leaving.

Jack opened his mouth, but closed it without uttering a word. He had no idea what to say. Even after helping to save the kingdom from marauding giants, he never would have imagined that he could somehow be necessary to the survival of the kingdom.

He glanced at Isabelle from the corner of his eye. She was staring at her hands where they were clasped upon the table. There was a tiny furrow between her brows that would have worried Jack but the rest of her expression was more contemplative than dismayed. It was tempting to smooth his thumb against the furrow but he was still unsure which touches were welcome, what would be appropriate to do in this instance.

“I think we should do it,” Isabelle's statement brought his mind back to the subject at hand. “Do you–?”

“Yes,” Jack said a bit more forcefully than he meant to. He smiled sheepishly and hers was indulgent in return. “I was already planning to marry you and spend our lives together. If we can help the kingdom at the same time then I think we should.”

“That's what I was thinking,” she smiled brilliantly. “It's not exactly how I thought it would happen, but I'm still going to be with you, so that's all that matters.”

Jack felt a bit silly, sitting in the tiny room, smiling at Isabelle so widely his face ached with it. But it was finally sinking in that this was all real. He was really getting the happy ending of his adventure. Even after the giants a part of him hadn't truly believed it would happen. It was like he had fallen into one of the stories he loved and part of him was always waiting for when he would wake up back in his real life.

But somehow, an extremely awkward conversation with the king had fixed that.

“What about–” Jack started to ask.

“What do yo–” Isabelle said at the same time.

They both stopped short and smiled sheepishly at each other. Then started to talk over each other again. They stopped again, sharing a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Go ahead,” Jack finally got out between giggles.

“What do you think about–about the triad part?” Isabelle was still smiling, but there was a tightness about her eyes.

“I–I'm not sure,” Jack mumbled. “It sounds like it might be really important.”

“Yeah,” Isabelle agreed. “Important enough that my father would even allow us to do _any_ of this at all.”

“Then, I guess, we should think about it,” Jack said slowly, trying to pick his words carefully, not wanting to be misunderstood about something so important. “Really think about it before we decide either way.”

“Yes,” Isabelle nodded but the tightness had extended to her mouth now. “That–that would be for the best.”

“I love you,” Jack blurted. He hated to see her sad. “Whatever else happens, I love you.”

“And I love you,” Isabelle still looked worried but more in a thoughtful way than an unhappy one now. Jack couldn't help but smile at her and took her hand from where it lay on the table in front of them. He carefully squeezed her hand and relaxed when she returned the pressure.

“So, if we're going to do this ritual for the good of Cloister,” Isabelle started, words as slow and careful as his had been before. “We should at least consider having a triad. We won't do it if we can't agree but we should at least think about it.”

“Okay,” Jack breathed deeply. He knew she was right but even thinking about thinking about it seemed odd. He spoke again as a new thought occurred to him. “Is that even legal? I've never heard of three people being married before.”

“Neither have I,” Isabelle bite down on her lip. “Well, father's the king so he can change the law or declare us exempt due to circumstances I suppose.”

“Right,” Jack tried not to sigh, staring down at their joined hands, well aware he had only been trying to delay having to think about the real matter at hand.

He could feel something, right on the edge of his mind, an answer that made him feel disloyal to Isabelle.

“If–if we did have a third, we would both have to agree on who,” Isabelle stumbled over the words. Jack couldn't bring himself to look back up at her. “Uh–do you–is there?– uh.”

“Elmont,” Jack's mouth said with no direction from his brain at all. “Uh–I mean–that's–”

“Oh, thank god,” Isabelle's quiet words stopped him in his tracks. He finally looked up and meet her eyes. They were wide and relieved and Jack felt a tension leave his shoulders that he hadn't even realized was there.

“You feel it, too?” Jack couldn't help but smile when she smiled at him. He didn't think he'd ever be able to not smile at her when she smiled at him.

“The connection between the three of us?” Jack nodded and so did Isabelle. “Ever since we came back from Gantua. At first, I just thought it was because we all went through something else no else has, but–”

“It's that and more,” Jack agreed. “I don't know if we would feel it, if we hadn't gone through all that together but since we returned, all the time we've worked together, it's–It's just _more_.”

Jack wished dearly he had the words to explain.

“Yes,” Isabelle said. “I've been so glad that the both of you had been with me these months. I don't think I could have gotten through everything that's happened, our kingdom failing, without you both.

“I never thought to include him in our marriage, but–” she paused and glanced down at their hands before raising her eyes to meet his again. “It feels right.”

“It does,” Jack agreed. “So. We're going to do this? Perform the ritual and ask Elmont to join us?”

“Yes,” Isabelle nodded sharply. “And if he says no–” she paused and swallowed before continuing. “–then we'll do the ritual with just the two of us. I'll have no other than the two of you.”

“Right,” Jack raised her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm as gently as he could. “We'll have Elmont as our third and no other.”

* * *

“Will you marry us?” Elmont stared at Jack as the man's face grew red, certain he could not have possibly heard him correctly.

“Jack,” Isabelle's face was quite pink as she said Jack's name with a least three syllables more than it actually had. Jack groaned as he buried his face in his arms.

“I didn't mean to say that,” Jack's voice was muffled but still clearly understandable. “I mean, I did mean to say that but not now. I meant to lead up to it.”

Elmont felt frozen in place as he meet Isabelle's eyes. Though still blushing charmingly, she didn't refute Jack's words. Or explain them for that matter.

Whatever Elmont had been expecting when Isabelle asked for a meeting in the king's office, this was most emphatically _not it_.

“Perhaps you should explain that,” Elmont's voice sounded oddly distant and hollow to his own ears.

Jack finally raised his head to meet Isabelle's eyes. They looked at each other without speaking for a mere moment before turning to face him. Elmont stamped on his jealousy before it could truly form.

He was delighted that the princess had found someone to love and was allowed to be with him. And Jack certainly deserved whatever happiness he could find after all he had done for Isabelle and the kingdom.

If some part of him still wished he could find something as precious for himself, it didn't change the fact that he was genuinely happy for the couple.

“You know that the brothers have been searching for a way to break the curse that seems to have befallen our kingdom.” It was more a statement than a question, as they'd discussed just that more than once. Elmont wasn't sure what exactly that had to do with a marriage proposal and rather wished Isabelle would get on with it. “They think they've found the answer.”

“That's wonderful,” Elmont was as happy as he was astonished. And still no clearer what this had to do with him marrying anyone. “But I'm not sure what that has to do with what I asked you or–more to the point–what _you_ asked _me_.”

“It does. It has everything to do with it,” Jack sounded sincere but Elmont was getting impatient.

“Jack, Isabelle, please,” Elmont grit his teeth and took a deep breath. He continued as he let it out slowly. “Just speak plainly.”

“There is a ritual, a magic ritual, that could restore life and prosperity to our kingdom,” Isabelle's eyes were sharp and clear as they stared into his. “It's a fertility ritual, one that would marry the participants to one another and to the land.”

Elmont sucked in a breath; he could feel his eyes widening as his mind reeled. It was only when both Jack and Isabelle reached out to grip his hands that he realized he had started to rise from his seat.

“What?” Elmont gasped as he finally took another breath.

“We want you to perform the ritual with us,” Isabelle's eyes never wavered and Elmont could not seem to look away, no matter how much he wanted to. “Three is a magical and holy number, it would be more powerful if three people performed the ritual together.”

“You were the only one we could think of doing this with,” Jack's voice was soft, barely audible, and yet it pierced Elmont. “We won't force you to do it. We'd understand if you don't want to, if you don't want to marry us.

“But,” Jack paused to glance over at Isabelle. She nodded at him and he looked back at Elmont. “we're doing the ritual. It's too important not to, even if you don't take part. So don't feel like you have to. We can still do it if you say no.”

Elmont could not tear his eyes away from Jack's earnest face. Never had he imagined anything like this. He didn't know what to do; what to say.

“If,” Elmont had to stop and swallow harshly. “If I say no, who?”

“Just us,” Isabelle said immediately. “The ritual will work with two, it just won't be as powerful. We'll have no other but you for a third. If you say no, then Jack and I will perform it on our own.”

“I need–I need to think,” Elmont stood and this time they didn't stop him. “I don't–”

“Of course,” Isabelle spoke into the silence he left. “Take all the time you need.”

It was a generous offer but Elmont knew there could never be enough time to think about this. Every day things in the kingdom got worse. Every day they delayed the worse off their people became.

He would take tonight. It was all he would allow himself.

“Thank you,” he murmured as he turned away. He tried not to let their hopeful faces affect him but his heart lurched at the thought of how much they wanted this.

Wanted _him_.

Elmont walked without destination for hours. Where once he would have patrolled the castle walls, he wandered aimlessly, only goal to avoid people as much as possible.

He nodded to the Guardians on perimeter duty whenever he passed them. His heart ached that there were so many new faces. Losing any of the men that served under him was something he would never stop hating.

To lose so many at once was nearly more than he could bear.

He had almost been glad of the castle's destruction. He had desperately needed something to think about, something to _do_ , other than focus on the holes in his ranks that he'd had to fill.

It was tempting to distance himself from the new men, to ensure that their loss never affected him as deeply. But he knew he would mourn them regardless, best to know them at least well enough to know if they could be trusted or not.

God he missed Crawe. He would have loved to hand the newbies off to him and be done with it. The man was far better with people than Elmont had ever been.

How could Elmont marry one person, let alone two?

Crawe would be laughing at him if he were here. So twisted up over two pretty little things. Crawe would never let him live it down. And he'd have made him get drunk.

Elmont considered it but instantly dismissed the idea. The only people he trusted to watch out for him while he was incapacitated right now, were the two people he was trying his best not to think about.

Well, he'd trust the king as well but he'd fall on his sword before ever allowing himself to be drunk in his king's presence.

Crawe would mock him for that as well.

Damn it, now was not the time to think about his losses. Jack and Isabelle were offering him a future and he needed to give it as much thought as they must have. To do anything less would be to dishonor them and their friendship.

Elmont sat upon a half tumbled wall in what he thought might have once been the bailey. The question was, did he want what they were offering?

He was surprised to realize it required almost no thought. Of _course_ , he wanted it.

He had always loved Isabelle, his princess, just as he loved his king, his kingdom, the people he protected.

And he could hardly fail to notice how well she grew up. But he hadn't allowed himself to think of it past that. He was her protector and she was his future queen. That was all there was to it, so he didn't think of anything else.

But he thought of it now. Of how she smiled at him when he indulged her more harmless whims. The way her hair curled around her face as it escaped its pins. The way the trousers had hugged her form the night she'd finally run away for real.

It would be so easy to want more from her than he was allowed. Except now, now he was allowed, if he had the courage to try.

And Jack. He had no problem understanding why Isabelle had fallen for the farm boy. He was sweet and kind and had fought to save her.

Elmont had taken a liking to the boy the first time he'd meet him. It had been admirable, in a foolish sort of way, that he had tried to protect Isabelle even without knowing who she was. That he hadn't hesitated to help rescue her though he'd had no training and no expectation that he would survive. It was even more incredible that he'd not only held his own but had saved Isabelle, Elmont himself, and the entire kingdom.

He'd tried not to think of that, either. After all, Jack was meant to marry the princess, just like in the tales.

But in truth, he'd found it difficult not to think of such things since they'd returned from Gantua. He'd felt drawn to the both of them in a way he couldn't explain. He'd never felt so close to anyone in his life, as if he only had to reach out and they would be there, reaching back.

He thought maybe they were reaching back. That maybe that was why they'd chosen him.

If they felt even a fraction of the draw he did, it was no wonder they wanted him to join with them.

Decision made, he went in search of spare bedroll. It was nearly dawn, but far too early for even good news. He would catch a few hours sleep and then he would steel himself to entrust his emotions to them as they had trusted him.

* * *

“Father,” King Brahmwell turned to his daughter. She stood at the door to his office. She hesitated a moment before pushing inside.

“Isabelle,” Brahmwell pulled her into a hug that she returned easily. “What news have you this morn?”

“We've come to tell you our decision,” he looked over her shoulder to see Jack and Elmont hovering just inside the door.

“Well, you'd best come in and shut the door then,” Brahmwell waved them all inside and resumed his seat behind his desk.

“We will be performing the ritual, with a triad,” Isabelle stated baldly. She meet his gaze head on, eyes clear and steady.

“I see,” he paused, unsure if he was happy or sad. He knew, better than anyone the sacrifices a monarch must make for their people, but he had hoped Isabelle would have more time before she needed to learn that lesson.

Though looking at the two men standing behind her, each with a hand upon her shoulder, he wasn't sure sacrifice was the right term.

“Jack, Elmont,” Brahmwell raised an eyebrow at his captain but the man looked back calmly. “Do you both agree?”

“We do,” they spoke in near unison. They shared a quick glance between them, bringing a smile to both their faces. Brahmwell was quite certain he had never seen such a soft expression on Elmont's face before.

“Then we must make preparations,” Brahmwell decided that he would table worrying about Isabelle's choices until later. Perhaps next year. He raised his voice so his steward would hear him where he waited in the hall. “Maxwell! Fetch Father Stevens.”

Before long, the Father and two of his brethren had arrived. There was a bit of a shuffle to make room for so many people in the small space but finally they were all settled.

“I have asked you here,” Brahmwell started. “To inform you that my daughter has agreed to perform the ritual. Jack and Captain Elmont will be her husbands and partners in the ritual.”

“That is excellent news,” Stevens smiled at the three, who seemed uniformly uncomfortable. “May I be the first to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials.”

“Thank you,” Isabelle's tone was polite, if a bit stiff.

“Speaking of upcoming nuptials,” Elmont drawled. “When exactly will ours be? I imagine we can't just do the ritual whenever.”

“The sooner the better, of course,” Brother Abel replied, not seeming bothered by the edge in the captain's voice. “The best time for such rituals is the night of the new moon, to symbolize new beginnings.”

“That's less than a fortnight away,” Maxwell spoke for the first time, reminding Brahmwell of his presence. “We'll never be ready by then!”

“I'm afraid we don't have much choice,” Stevens held up a hand when it looked like one of his subordinates would speak. “Every day we delay, the worse the corruption, the further it spreads. Waiting even until next month's new moon could be disastrous.”

Brahmwell tried not to dwell on the daily reports of death and misfortune that was befalling his kingdom and failed.

“He's right,” Isabelle spoke before anyone else could. “Time is of the essence. We must begin to prepare.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Stevens patted her hand and smiled. “Thankfully, the ritual is fairly simple. The hardest part will be learning the–” he paused as if searching for the right word, before shrugging. “–spell. The language is old and few still speak it. As the royal member of the triad, most of the ritual will be enacted by you but you will all have to memorize a few lines.”

“Then we had best begin,” Isabelle stood and everyone stood with her. “We will join you directly after lunch if that suits, Father.”

“Of course,” Stevens bowed slightly. “We will await your pleasure.”

All three brothers stood and started to leave, but Stevens hesitated before turning away.

“There is one last matter to discuss,” he said slowly. Brahmwell tried not to sigh and mentally urged him to just spit out. “This is a _fertility_ ritual.”

“Yes, so you said before,” Brahmwell tried to keep his impatience from showing, but even he could hear it in his voice. “Just say whatever it is plainly.”

“As it is a fertility ritual,” Stevens was dangerously close to earning his ire. “There is a very strong likelihood that the princess with become with child.”

The silence in the room was profound. Voices could be heard calling from outside, muddled by distance and stone walls.

“Are you certain?” Brahmwell found his voice before anyone else.

“No, but given that that is usually the point of most fertility rituals, the possibility is more likely than not.”

Brahmwell sat back in his chair not sure what to think. While he longed for more family, wanted Isabelle to experience the joy of being a parent as he had when she was born, the timing could be better. It would, in fact, be difficult for the timing to be worse.

“This changes nothing,” Brahmwell's head snapped up as Isabelle spoke. Though she was addressing the entire room, her focus was solely on the two men she had chosen. “The ritual needs to be done and we have already decided to do it. If there is a child, they will be born to a land free of the corruption of dark magic. And a royal birth could only improve morale.”

She was, of course, entirely correct.

“Then we will go forward as planned and deal with any consequences that might arise.” Hearing the dismissal for what it was, everyone made to leave. Brahmwell watched the Brothers leave, then waved his steward out after them. Isabelle, Jack and Elmont shared a brief look before the boys left as well.

They both waited to speak until they were alone.

“Maxwell is right, as well.” Brahmwell rounded his desk so he could sit next to his daughter. “There's not nearly enough time to plan a royal wedding. Or _any_ wedding.”

“Father,” Isabelle took his hand and he couldn't help but smile at her. “It doesn't matter.”

“It does,” he insisted. “No, it does matter. Not as much as our duty to our people, but that doesn't mean it doesn't matter at all.

“This isn't what I wanted for you,” Brahmwell continued to talk even as Isabelle opened her mouth. “But perhaps, that is for the best.”

“Daddy,” Isabelle hadn't called him that in longer than he could remember. “It's not your fault.”

“If I hadn't trusted Roderick none of this would have happened.” It burned, to know that he had failed her, failed his people so badly.

“There was no way you could have known what he would do,” Isabelle looked so like her mother in that moment it brought a sweet ache to his heart.

“And yet, you didn't trust him and I didn't listen to you.” That perhaps was the worst part of it. That he had been so hell bent on protecting and providing for Isabelle that he had been blinded to what Roderick was.

“I didn't want to marry him,” Isabelle squeezed his hand. “But I never once suspected that he had such evil plans. He was just old and boring and I wasn't ready to settle down when I hadn't ever really had something to settle down from.”

“You know,” Brahmwell couldn't help but point out. “Elmont isn't that much younger than Roderick was.”

“Well, yes, but he's Elmont,” Isabelle said as if that explained everything. Brahmwell supposed in a way it did. “And he is anything but boring.”

“True,” he conceded with ill grace. “But are you ready now? So much has happened since then but hardly any time has passed at all.”

Isabelle gave that question due consideration and it heartened Brahmwell.

“Yes,” Isabelle sounded surprised by her own admission. “I really do think I am. So much has changed, even if the time has been short. I've changed as well. And I'd like to think it's all to the better.”

“It is,” Brahmwell assured her, drawing her into a hug. “But I still reserve the right to have a proper state wedding the moment we're in a position to have one.

Her laughter echoing in the small room was the best thing Brahmwell had ever heard.

* * *

Isabelle tried not to shiver as she waited for the monks to finish their preparations. She, Jack and Elmont were all dressed in thin linen shifts and nothing else. The ground beneath her feet was cold and rough.

The only light came from the bonfire set up close to where they would be performing the ritual. The flickering light made everything look strange, even Jack and Elmont. It was disconcerting and she tried not to focus too much on it. She was already nervous about leading the ritual when there was so much riding on its success.

The wind shifted, bringing with it the smell of rotting vegetation. She forced herself not to gag, breathing shallowly through her mouth. It didn't help much but she kept down what little she'd been able to eat that day.

“Everything is prepared,” Brother Gabriel said as he approached them. “We will retire to the castle. Only the knights the captain chose will remain on guard.”

“Thank you, Brother,” Isabelle replied, watching as he disappeared into the darkness.

“Well, that's that, then,” Jack murmured, closing the distance between them. Elmont joined them from her other side. She took a moment to enjoy the warmth that enveloped her.

“Right, before we begin, is everyone certain they wish to do this.” Isabelle felt compelled to ask one last time.

“Yes,” their answers were gratifyingly fast.

“As do I,” Isabelle didn't know if they could see her smile or not but hoped so. “This isn't exactly how I expected my wedding night to pass, especially as we aren't even married yet, but I can't say I am unhappy.”

“It's not much different than I thought it would be, when I thought about it,” Jack said, gaze passing over the looming beanstalks, darker shadows against the night. “Well, except the bit about it being outside. And you being a princess. And marrying two people.

“Come to think of it, the only bit that's like I thought it would be is that I'm still on the farm. Even if the farm isn't really here anymore.”

“Yes, that's hardly any difference at all,” Elmont drawled. His smile, lit by a flare of the fire, was much gentler than his tone. “Right, the night isn't getting any younger. Best get on with it.”

Had she not known him for her entire life, Isabelle might have believed he was as carefree as he sounded. As it was, she put her own nerves aside to smile at both her boys and moved to take her place. Once she had double checked then triple checked that everything was set up, she took a deep breath and began.

The chant felt strange on her tongue, even after practicing for days. She had no idea what the words meant, only that they spoke of unity, with each other and with the land. She spoke as normally as possible, focusing all her attention on making sure she said each word correctly and didn't miss anything.

When she reached the end of the first line, she looked to her right, where Jack stood. He meet her eyes with a smile and held his hands out without hesitation.

Isabelle spoke the next words as she carefully sliced a line across both of his palms. Jack turned his hands over, allowing the blood to fall on the ground as Isabelle continued to speak. She nearly stopped as she _felt_ the first drop hit, as if it had landed on her own skin instead of the barren earth.

She forced herself to continue as Jack's blood continued to drip inexorably, as a strange warmth seemed to sweep up from her feet and through her body.

Then she turned to Elmont and with just as much care she drew the knife over his palms as well. The first drop on the ground made the strange warmth pulse higher, burn brighter.

Isabelle desperately wished she could stop and breath, just for a moment, but it was too late. The wind began to whip, stealing the words from her lips. She began yelling as she turned the knife against her own flesh.

The first cut seared. The wound burned as she transferred the knife to that hand to make the second cut. As she turned her palms to the ground, the warmth flared again, becoming a raging inferno. Heat burned through her, made her feel as if she had thrown herself upon the bonfire. The pain was nigh intolerable and would have stolen her breath had she had any left.

And yet she continued to yell the spell as she grasped the handle of the knife in both hands. She knelt swiftly and stabbed the blade into the earth before staggering upright once more.

As soon as she had gained her feet, she crossed her arms. Jack and Elmont–both chanting words she couldn't hear over the wind–immediately copied her actions. She grabbed one of their hands each, as they joined their others.

The instant they all touched, it felt as if something inside her snapped into place. The world seemed to still around them. She had one moment of perfect clarity, to wonder at how their arms almost seemed to form a trinity knot.

Then burning faded away, leaving only a pleasant warmth behind. The wind dropped to a gentle breeze. The ground beneath her feet felt warm and of smooth grass. Even the ever present miasma of rotting beanstalk had been replaced with a scent redolent of summer.

They stepped forward as one, til their bodies were pressed close, then knelt. They pressed their hands, still entwined, to the ground as they spoke the last lines of the incantation.

Isabelle gasped as a strange energy rushed through her, before seeming to seep into the ground through their hands. The world tilted for a breathlessly moment before stilling again.

After several quick breaths, the natural night sounds began to filter back in. Only as she heard the chirping of insects did Isabelle realize that the sound had been absent even before they'd begun the ritual.

“Isabelle, Jack,” Elmont panted. “Are you alright?”

“Yea–yeah,” Jack's voice sounded as unsteady as Isabelle felt.

“Isabelle?” Elmont repeated.

“I'm alright.” And she was. She had never felt better, even if she couldn't seem to catch her breath. She looked at the two men who had seen her through the strangest and most dangerous things she could imagine and felt so incredibly blessed.

“Good,” he muttered, shifting slightly. The move brushed his shoulder against hers, pushing her against Jack's in turn.

At the touch, the warmth inside her flared, burned in her belly like banked coals, steady and no longer painful, reminding her that this wasn't done yet.

“Jack, Elmont,” she would be embarrassed at how breathy, at how close to a moan, her voice sounded but both men looked equally affected.

Not wanting to think too hard about her actions, lest they never get started, she leaned up and kissed Jack.

His lips were soft against hers and she felt a swell of tenderness to have won the loyalty of such a brave and selfless man.

She pulled away slowly, not wanting to lose the touch and the warmth it brought her. But there was another she was just as drawn to.

Elmont's lips were rougher, though no less gentle as they moved against hers. The childhood fantasies she had long put away could not live up to the reality of the man kneeling before her.

As she pulled away, her breath caught as the two men leaned into each other. Rather than feeling jealous that they were no longer focused on her, she only felt her desire grow higher.

Once their kiss broke, they finally let their hands break apart. 

Isabelle stood to shed her shift, suddenly finding its drag across her skin intolerable. What had felt smooth and cool at the beginning of the night now felt rough and unworthy to touch her skin.

She wished only for their eyes, their hands, their mouths on her skin.

In a moment they were all bare. Isabelle admired the way the fire highlighted the muscularity of their bodies. How the shadows softened the lines of their faces. They were beautiful in that moment and Isabelle thanked god that they were hers.

Jack knelt before her once more, flames dancing in his eyes as he looked up at her. His hands settled on her hips, drawing her towards him. As he pressed soft kisses to her belly as Elmont stepped up and pressed the full length of his body to her back. She could feel his hardness against her bottom, hot and seeming far too large. The fire inside her flared again and she moaned as Jack's lips brushed over her mound.

Her body had never before felt so tight, so hot. Elmont's hands came around to cup her breasts as Jack's fingers parted her folds. She gasped, hands groping the air before landing in Jack's hair. She buried her fingers deep, tightening them as her body tightened.

Elmont flicked one of her nipples at the same moment Jack's tongue caressed her nub. She shouted as heat and pleasure exploded from her center. The same strange energy raced through her again, following the warmth, then once again flowed into the ground.

As reason and breath returned to her, she realized she was no longer standing. She was kneeling over Jack's lap, Elmont a warm presence behind her holding her up.

“Alright, there?” Jack's eyes seemed to glow in the firelight. A glance over her shoulder showed Elmont's looked the same. She wondered if hers did as well, if it was the magic they were channeling.

“Yes,” it took two tries, but she was able to get the reassurance out. “That was–was–”

“Intense,” Elmont's voice was lower than she'd ever heard it, sending pleasant aftershocks up and down her spine.

“Yes,” Isabelle agreed. “But it's not done yet.”

“Are you certain you're ready to keep going?” Jack's concern was touching, so Isabelle gave it serious thought. She felt relaxed, utterly free of any tension and warm through.

But she also felt empty in a way she had never known before. She ached to feel them, to know them in a way she would know no others.

“Yes,” Isabelle smiled and Jack returned it. 

Elmont kissed her shoulder and shifted slightly. “Here, lift up.” Isabelle obliged, moving where his hands shifted her. She ended up pressed against Jack's chest, his hot, hard length sliding against her wet lips.

She kissed him as Elmont guided her down onto Jack. They both moaned and Isabelle broke the kiss, needing to see his face. He was flushed with a wide smile. He looked quite silly and Isabelle had never seen anything more wonderful.

She moaned again as a slight shift pushed Jack deeper. Elmont's hands were on her hips, slowly lowering her down til she was fully seated on Jack's lap.

She had never felt anything like it before. It ached, burned like stretched muscles but the burn only made her pleasure edge higher.

But it wasn't enough. She shifted, trying to once again find her release.

“Don't move,” Jack breathed through gritted teeth. “Or this will be over sooner rather than later.”

Isabelle pulled him into another kiss, needing to do _something_ , even if she could not move. A touch of wetness to her bottom ripped another gasp from her.

“Easy,” Elmont's voice was soothing. “Just shift forward a bit and relax.”

Isabelle did as he asked, even as she wanted to laugh. She didn't know if she would ever feel relaxed again. It felt as if her very soul was wound as tightly as her body, waiting to shatter and shake through some release that went beyond the physical.

Jack caught Isabelle's lips with his own, hands in her hair holding her to him as Elmont's fingers spread the wetness around and inside her other hole. 

She had never imagined she would be doing this, that she would be here. Pressed between two men that she loved and being loved in return.

“Just relax,” Elmont whispered in her ear as she felt something large and blunt pressing against her. The stretch was more, the burn closer to pain.

She had never felt so full in her life.

It seemed an eternity before Elmont's chest was pressed to her back. They all stayed motionless, breathing harshly. The burn faded but the fullness remained and Isabelle felt complete, as if she had found two pieces of herself that she hadn't even known were missing.

Then Elmont moved, drew back, hands on her hips shifting her on Jack as well. She moaned as the warmth inside her began building again, as everything clenched tighter.

They found a rhythm, moved together, as if had always been a part of one another. Lips and hands moved over flesh, words were whispered for only their ears and the power rushed through them. It spiraled higher and higher until it reached a peak.

With a cry from three throats, it released.

Isabelle's mind whited out as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. With each pulse of warm power, her body contracted.

It went on and on, until the final wave crested and the power drained out of them and into the land. For one brief moment she could feel everything. The men around and inside her, the life pulsing in the land beneath her, even the animals and people that made up her kingdom.

Then the last of the power seeped away like water into dry ground. Isabelle was once again wholly in her own skin.

Not that that was a bad thing. She was warm and wrung out and surrounded by the men she loved. She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was Jack looking back at her. His smile was open and happy. She turned slightly as Elmont shifted behind her. He propped himself up far enough to see the both of them, smiling just as widely as they were.

“I do believe it worked,” Elmont spoke lowly as he pointed at the ground above their heads. Isabelle turned to look and felt her heart still in her chest for just one beat.

Where once the beanstalks lay rotting, now was only an open field covered in a dizzying number of flowers of every color.

As dawn brightened the sky, Isabelle lay in the arms of her husbands and felt like she could finally breathe freely for the first time in her life.


End file.
